


In Your Colors

by SharkGirl



Series: After "I Do." [6]
Category: Kuroko no Basuke | Kuroko's Basketball
Genre: Aged-Up Character(s), Anniversary, Boyfriend/Husband Jersey, Cute, Established Relationship, Fluff, Fluff and Smut, Future Fic, Hand Jobs, M/M, Married Couple, Married Sex, Rimming, Smut, Sweet
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-04-11
Updated: 2017-04-11
Packaged: 2018-10-17 17:12:25
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,913
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10598481
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SharkGirl/pseuds/SharkGirl
Summary: “What’s the hottest thing you’ve ever done for your husbands?” Furihata asked, hoping his face looked more serious than it did self-conscious.Takao and Himuro blinked, glanced at each other, and then answered in unison.“Boyfriend Jersey.”Written for AkaFuri Day 2017!





	

**Author's Note:**

> I've been wanting to write this for some time, but I just couldn't get it started. I'd like to thank Niri for inspiring me to add Himuro to my usual TakaFuri brotp. It just made this chapter for me!!
> 
> Beta'd by the fabulous Niri~♥  
> Please enjoy!

Furihata bounced his knee, his fingers drumming on the Formica tabletop as he waited by himself in their usual booth at Maji Burger. It wasn’t that he was necessarily upset that Takao was late. Sometimes the other man would get an extra call, so his shift would be extended and he’d have to delay or even cancel their lunch plans. Furihata understood that. That was completely fine.

However… 

The reason he was so nervous was not because of his self-appointed brother-in-law’s tardiness. No. It was the fact that, with each passing second, he grew less and less likely to bring up what he wanted to talk to the other about. As it stood, there was a fifty-fifty chance of him broaching the subject at all.

Normally – or, rather, how things tended to go every other time – Takao would sense that something was eating at Furihata – damn his perceptiveness! – and he'd wheedle and tease until he got it out of him, usually going as far as to say even more embarrassing things out loud until Furihata caved and finally told him.

This time, though, the brunet was going to be the one to ask for advice – as opposed to having said advice thrust upon him.

The door to Maji opened with a ding, catching his attention. He looked up and spotted not one, but two dark heads of hair over the partition, one bobbing just a bit higher than the other. Before Furihata could venture a guess as to who Takao had brought with him, the two rounded the corner, both smiling.

“Kou-chan!” Takao greeted with a big wave. Behind him, Himuro Tatsuya echoed the gesture, but on a smaller scale. “You remember Tatsu-chan, of course.”

“Of course.” Furihata stood up when they arrived, waiting until they took their seats before sitting back down. “It’s been a while.” And it had been. Both Himuro and his husband, Murasakibara, had moved to America for college and decided to live there after graduation. They saw each other at the usual reunions – always arranged and hosted by Akashi – and, of course, at Akashi and Furihata’s wedding two years earlier. But, with all the new business acquisitions and partnerships the Akashi Corporation had been attaining as of late, those get-togethers were becoming fewer and farther between.

“It has,” Himuro agreed, giving a gorgeous smile. Then again, that man probably rolled out of bed flawless. “You’re looking well.”

Furihata could have laughed at that. He was certain he looked as nervous as he felt, but he bowed his head in thanks.

“I hope you don’t mind that I brought Tatsu-chan with me,” Takao said, spinning his place mat. “I only just found out that he was in town for tonight only and I just had to get the Karaoke Squad together.” He smirked. Back in their high school days, Takao, Himuro, and Kise were rather famous for their vocal talents and often dragged the rest of the Miracles – and Miracle-adjacent ‘normies’ such as Furihata – along with them.

“I don’t mind at all,” Furihata assured them. Though, it did make talking about his little ‘problem’ all the more difficult. It was hard enough bringing it up with Takao, but now that Himuro was there…

“I’ll go order us something,” Takao went on, not even bothering to ask Furihata what he wanted. After years of lunch dates, he had his order memorized. “Oh, and Kou-chan?” He looked over his shoulder just before he reached the end of the banquette. “You can ask me about it when I get back.”

Furihata’s eyes widened. “Ask you what?” He tried to play it cool.

“Please.” Takao snorted. “How long have I known you?” He rolled his eyes. “Just wait to dish it all out until after I order.” And then he headed toward the counter.

“He doesn’t miss a trick, does he?” Himuro chuckled from across the booth. Furihata, still stunned – though, not surprised, if he thought about it – just nodded in agreement. “I hope I’m not interrupting a heart-to-heart.”

“No.” Furihata shook his head. “Nothing like that.” He sighed. “I just wanted Taka’s advice on something.” He could already tell his cheeks were tinting and he wondered if Himuro could feel the heat radiating off of his face.

“Well, I can leave if you’d like,” Himuro suggested and then leaned forward, resting his elbows on the table and his chin on his interlaced fingers. “Or…” He grinned. “I can offer my input.”

Furihata hadn’t talked to Himuro as much as the others over the years. And, when he did come in contact with the beautiful man, he had Murasakibara as a buffer. But now, with Himuro giving him the look that Takao wore all too well, Furihata was beginning to think he should get out of the booth before they ganged up on him and he was telling them everything from his most recent concern to his middle school locker combination.

But it was too late. Takao was back.

“They’re just dropping the fries, so they said they’d bring our order over,” he explained, placing a folded card with a number onto the table. “So,” he began, silvery blue gaze boring into Furihata. “What did you want to ask me?”

Furihata figured he had three options. The first being ignorance – but it was too late for that – the second being to flee the restaurant – but that would be rude – and the third, most likely, was for him to own up and admit that he needed the others’ help.

“Sei comes home from his trip tonight,” he said, looking anywhere but at the other two.

“That’s right!” Takao gasped. “I forgot he’s been in Italy all week.”

“For two weeks, actually,” Furihata corrected. Of course, it had only _actually_ been ten days, but it felt so much longer.

“My bad.” Takao laughed. “So, when’s his flight arrive?”

“It left on schedule, so he should be landing in about five hours-”

“That doesn’t give us much time,” Takao noted, rubbing his chin. “Out with it.” He motioned for Furihata to continue.

“Okay.” He twiddled his fingers, gaze dropping again. “I…um…”

“Kou-chan, c’mon.” Takao threw his arms out. “We don’t have time for your inexplicable virginal beating around the bush-” he interrupted himself with a snort at his wording, “What did you want to ask?”

Furihata drew his brows down, but continued. “Well, I want to do something special for his return, since…” He wet his lips. “Since it’s our anniversary and all.”

“Forgive me for being rude,” Himuro said. “But I distinctly remember your wedding being on Valentine’s Day.”

“Yeah, cliché and adorable, right?” Takao chimed in.

“Oh, it’s not our _wedding_ anniversary,” Furihata clarified. “It’s the anniversary of the first time Sei asked me out on a date.”

The two stared at him from across the booth, eyebrows raised in disbelief.

“ _Seriously?_ ” Himuro stage-whispered to Takao, who bobbed his head.

“I know. They’re so disgustingly cute, it makes you want to barf, right?”

“Hey,” Furihata managed, his ears turning bright red. Perhaps he should stop talking before the other two tease him even more.

“Sorry, sorry.” Takao raised his hands in a placating manner. “It’s just…you two are so sentimental and precious.”

“You mean you don’t celebrate your anniversaries with Midorima-kun?” Furihata couldn’t believe that. There was no way.

“Oh, we _do_!” Takao argued. “Like the first time we got it on in the back of my ambulance,” he began ticking them off on his fingers, “the first time I sneaked into his office and gave him a BJ. _Ooh!_ Or the first time he ate me ou-”

“Taka, please!” Furihata covered his face with his hands, not sure how much of that was true and how much was just to get his desired reaction.

“What Kazunari means to say is,” Himuro continued for him. “It’s sweet that you and Akashi chose to commemorate those types of things.” He paused, giving a little smile. “Atsushi and I also have specific things we like to…celebrate.” He bit his lower lip and winked.

Red flags. Red flags everywhere. And yet…Furihata kept talking. It was too late to run away, anyhow.

“Right, so.” He swallowed. “I wanted your advice on-”

“Say no more!” Takao placed a hand over his heart. “You have come to the right person – err – people,” he corrected, glancing over at Himuro. “We’ll help you plan the perfect evening, from the welcome home kiss to you riding him into the sunset.”

“Taka!” Furihata was mortified. He didn’t dare look to see if any of the other patrons had overheard their conversation thus far. He did peek up when the server came by with their trays of food – not that he felt calm enough to eat anything.

“The possibilities are endless,” Takao went on before taking a bite of his burger. “Yoof husch heed foo.” He stopped to swallow. “You just need to let us know what you’re going for.”

“Exactly,” Himuro concurred and took a sip of his drink. “Do you want to be Furihata the Sex God? Or do you want to let Akashi have all of the control-”

“Been there, done that.” Takao waved his hand in dismissal. “Maybe Kou-chan should tie him up this time.” He brought a finger to his chin. “Or _maybe_ you should be tied up and waiting for him. Perfectly gift-wrapped,” he added with a sly smile.

Furihata thought about the logistics of that last one and shook his head. He wanted the others’ advice and suggestions, but this conversation was getting out of hand and rather embarrassing, so he decided to just cut to the chase.

“What’s the hottest thing you’ve ever done for your husbands?” he asked, hoping his face looked more serious than it did self-conscious. That’s right. Quick. Just like with a bandage.

Takao and Himuro blinked, glanced at each other, and then answered in unison.

“Boyfriend Jersey.”

“Though,” Himuro laughed, “I suppose the proper term would be Husband Jersey.”

Now, Furihata didn’t want to insult the other two. They were clearly more experienced when it came to the art of seduction. But he wasn’t sure if what they’d suggested was meant to be a joke.

“Don’t make that face.” Takao popped a fry into his mouth. “It’s true.”

“Yes,” Himuro agreed. “The first time I wore Atsushi’s jersey, I, well…” His gaze shifted to the side before falling back on Furihata. “Let’s just say I wasn’t able to walk right for a week.”

Furihata’s face was once again aflame.

“Shin-chan and I didn’t even make it to the bed,” Takao offered. “Took me right there on the living room floor.”

Again, the brunet had trouble understanding the appeal. He knew that every male anime protagonist’s dream was to see his significant other wearing his button up shirt, but he couldn’t picture Akashi losing it at the sight of Furihata wearing his clothing.

“Guys, I appreciate the idea, but-”

“Don’t knock it, till you try it.” Takao crossed his arms over his chest and smirked. “There’s nothing sexier than your lover wearing your jersey and _only_ your jersey.” He chuckled. “Except for maybe Naked Apron.”

“Ah, Naked Apron!” Himuro sighed dreamily as if reliving a memory.

“Mmm…but we should focus.” Takao caught Furihata with his piercing gaze. “Wear the jersey. It’s flattering and it’ll give Sei-chan easy access.”

It seemed there was no arguing with them, so Furihata just agreed, finally managing to take a few bites of his meal.

 

 

Furihata thought about his friends’ advice all through his errands and dinner. He’d turned down their offer to join them for karaoke – half because he thought the idea of singing in front of such talent with his weak voice would be embarrassing, and half because he didn’t want to run the risk of getting home after his husband.  So, he had plenty of alone time to prepare.

There were two large, walk-in closets in his and Akashi’s master bedroom. One was filled with their everyday wear, both his and Akashi’s. Suits, gym clothes, and, of course, the occasional graphic tee. The other was for more formal attire. Custom-made tuxedos, extravagant holiday costumes, and all of the clothing they’d rarely wear.

That was where he found Akashi’s old jerseys, hung up neatly next to his own. Furihata had kept his number 12 from his first year of high school – the first time Seirin won the Winter Cup – as well as his third-year number 4 from when he was captain.

Akashi, on the other hand, had four jerseys. All number four.

The first was from Teiko, and Furihata immediately dismissed wearing that one. For one, it was far too small and, honestly, just the thought of wearing something his husband had worn when he was _fourteen_ didn’t exactly get him going.

Next was Akashi’s Rakuzan jersey. Furihata worried as his lower lip as he smoothed the fabric with his fingers. This was the one Akashi was wearing when they first met – under his jacket, of course – and the very jersey he wore during all of their games. It was a possibility for sure, though Furihata still wasn’t completely sold on the whole Husband Jersey idea.

The remaining two were the bright red and white of the Vorpol Swords and the sunny yellow and purple from the one game Akashi had played for the Lakers later that same year. It was just a fun thing all the Miracles had done as part of a goodwill promotion after the whole Jabberwock fiasco. Well, not just the Miracles, but also Kagami and Himuro.

Those two jerseys were definitely out. Furihata had never been jealous of his husband – proud, amazed, floored, sure – but those two seemed untouchable. They were from a time before they’d started dating and probably before Furihata was even a blip on the redhead’s radar.

Shaking away the negative thoughts, he reached for the Rakuzan top. It made the most sense. Akashi had played him wearing this and so, it was the jersey best suited for this particular form of seduction.

If Furihata managed to seduce him at all.

Once more, he had to remind himself that he wasn’t the overly cautious, virginal coward he’d been for their first full year – and then some – of marriage. He’d gotten over that and had even been the one to ask Takao for advice this time. He should be proud!

Still…as he stripped his clothing and held the jersey out in front of him, he wondered if Akashi would find this at all alluring.

He pictured Takao in Midorima’s larger orange or Himuro in Murasakibara’s humongous purple, both looking properly dwarfed by their husbands’ much larger tops. But Furihata and Akashi were nearly the same height and, when he tugged the jersey over his head and let it slide down, the hem barely fell below his backside. In fact, if Furihata were to bend over even in the slightest, he was certain his bare behind would be completely exposed.

“No…” He frowned, glancing at his reflection in the mirror hanging on the closet door. “This won’t do…” He reached for the hem, ready to remove it, but he froze when he heard the soft click of their bedroom door opening. Afraid that it was one of their staff, Furihata dove into the closet and shut the door behind him. However, when the person spoke, it was with a soft, velvety voice that could only belong to his darling husband.

“Kouki, you didn’t answer my calls. Are you-” A pause. “Kouki?”

Oh, great. Furihata had lost all track of time and now Akashi was home. He scrubbed his face with his hands before tugging at his hair. He glanced down at the jersey he wore and groaned. His clothes were on the floor outside and everything inside this _particular_ closet wouldn’t do at all. What was he to do? Walk out in his pirate costume from last year's Halloween?

“Kouki, where are you?” Akashi asked with a soft chuckle, though there was a hint of worry in his tone.

“I’m in here,” he replied, not wanting his husband to get the wrong idea.

“I see.” Akashi sounded closer now. “And, judging by your laundry on the floor, am I to assume you’re-” he chuckled again “-in the nude?”

Furihata groaned one more and let his head fall against the door with a thud. “Not quite…”

“Kouki, what’s the matter?” His husband was probably frowning. _Great job_ , Furi. Way to welcome your husband home and get your anniversary off to a _fantastic_ start… “Are you alright?”

“I’m fine, just…” Furihata sighed. “Promise not to laugh?”

“I swear,” Akashi said.

“Okay. I’m coming out.” He reached for the knob and gave it a twist, taking a deep breath as he pushed the door open. He knew he looked ridiculous and he only hoped Akashi would let him explain why he was clad in only his jersey from _high school_. “Sei, I-”

“Kouki.”

Now, Furihata may have been imagining things, but he could have sworn he’d seen his husband’s eyes flash. “Sei?”

“What is that you’re wearing?” he asked, dark, crimson gaze raking over the brunet’s form.

“Um…your jersey.” He gulped, wondering if the other man was upset that he’d gone through his things. “I’ll take it off, so-”

“Why?” Akashi took a step forward, eyes blazing. Furihata felt like a deer caught in the headlights. "Why are you wearing it?"

“Uh, b-because…um…” Oh, what would Takao or Himuro say in this situation? They probably wouldn’t have to say anything. Their husbands would have already ravished them by this point – according to them. “Because,” he tried again. “It’s…sexy?”

“Kouki.” Akashi moved closer still, reaching a hand out and gripping the hem of the jersey, his fingers just grazing the softer skin of Furihata’s thigh. “You wore this for me?”

Furihata swallowed and nodded, his heart thudding in his chest. It had been a while since he’d seen the other man and their sudden close proximity was limiting his cohesion. “Are you…” He struggled. The scent of his husband’s cologne, even after a long flight, was still intoxicating and brought a thousand pleasant memories to the forefront of his mind. “Are you…mad?” he managed, after all.

“Mad?” Akashi’s fingers slipped under the hem, brushing against his naked flesh. “Why would I be mad when my adorable husband decided to surprise me with a most delectable sight?” he purred.

Delectable? Had Takao and Himuro been right? Was wearing his jersey really _that_ _much_ of a turn on?

“Kouki,” Akashi breathed into the crook of his neck and shoulder. “May I?”

Furihata didn’t know what he was asking for, but, considering the heat pooling in his belly and between his legs at the moment, he would have granted this man anything he desired. He nodded, breathlessly adding a quick, “Yes.”

Akashi wrapped his arms around him, nuzzling his neck before dotting kisses up to his earlobe. “Oh, Kouki, you look absolutely magnificent in Rakuzan white and blue.” He mouthed along his jaw. “I knew I should have recruited you when I had the chance.”

“What?” Furihata blinked.

“Ah, well, no sense living in the past.” He pressed his lips to Furihata’s and the brunet made a mental note to ask his husband about that later. For now, the feel of the other’s lips against his was enough to occupy his mind.

“Sei…” he gasped, breaking the kiss. “You…like it?”

“Like it?” Akashi raised his brows. “Kouki, I love it. Just the thought of you dressing up for me like this…” He nipped at his lower lip. “Well, it appears I’ve lost my ability to properly express myself through words, my sweet Kouki.”

At that, Furihata blushed crimson, his cheeks burning. Had he done that? Just by wearing this?

“So, if you please,” Akashi continued. “Allow me to show you my gratitude another way.” An arm snaked around behind him, gripping his backside through the cool fabric. Furihata sucked in a breath and quickly nodded his head. “Thank you, Kouki.” Akashi's voice was low and husky. “Now, turn around, please.”

Furihata did as he was told, his days of questioning his husband’s every intention long gone. They’d shifted a bit from the closet door and Furihata nearly ran into the wall. He caught himself, his palms pressing against the surface.

Curiosity getting the better of him, he glanced over his shoulder. “Sei, what do you have plan-” but he stopped when he saw the hunger in the other’s eyes. Akashi’s pupils were blown so wide, there was but a thin ring of red around them. A delightful shudder made its way up Furihata’s spine and he licked his lips. “Sei?”

“It would be quite rude, on my part, if a delicious meal presented itself,” he paused, getting down onto his knees, “and I didn’t devour it.”

Furihata was about to ask just what he meant by that, but all that came out was a choked moan as Akashi pulled up the hem of the jersey and placed a kiss on the tender flesh of his left butt cheek. He gasped and, in his surprise, thrust his hips forward and away, but Akashi held him firmly, gripping his hips and keeping him in place.

“Now, now, Kouki,” he teased, voice dripping with unabashed sensuality. “You wouldn’t be trying to take back your gift, now would you?”

The brunet shook his head vigorously before bending over at the waist and pressing his hips back.

Akashi removed one of his hands from Furihata's hip and gave his ass a playful swat, eliciting another pleasured groan. “Good boy,” he praised him and then placed a chaste kiss on the base of his spine, sending another delightful shiver up the brunet’s back.

“Sei…” he moaned, glancing over his shoulder. The jersey was hiked up now, one of his husband’s hands holding it out of the way, while the other caressed the supple flesh beneath. Furihata squeezed his eyes tightly shut, loving the feeling of the redhead’s hands on him.

The kisses continued, Akashi mixing in a few little nips as he thoroughly pampered the exposed skin, until finally, the redhead released his hold on the fabric and moved both hands to the brunet's bottom, spreading him open.

Furihata’s nails scraped at the wall, his fingers curling and finding no purchase as he braced himself for a finger, but the familiar slickness of a lubed digit didn’t come. Instead, he felt his husband’s warm breath at his entrance.

Oh. _Oh._ They hadn’t done that in – but his train of thought derailed the moment he felt Akashi’s tongue against his sensitive skin. First a few tentative licks and then a long stripe.

“S-Sei…!” he moaned, leaning forward to rest his cheek against the wall. “Oh…f-f-fff-” He bit his lower lip to keep from making too much noise. Most of the staff had left for the day, but those who lived in the house remained. And only a few doors down.

“Kouki,” Akashi groaned huskily, muffled by his flesh. His grip tightened, spreading Furihata further open as he lapped at him. “Abso…lutely…delectable…” Then he pressed his tongue against the tight ring of muscle and Furihata nearly screamed.

“Sei…oh, fuck, Sei…!” He brought a hand to his mouth and bit down on one of his knuckles as his husband pleasured him. He couldn’t take it. It had been a while since they’d seen each other and even longer since they’d had any alone time. With minimal shame – at that moment, anyway – Furihata thought he might come just from Akashi’s tongue.

But then skilled fingers wrapped around his erection, already unbelievably hard and dripping onto the carpet below. Furihata stifled a gasp and buried his face in the crook of his elbow, panting as Akashi worked him from both sides.

“Sei…if you don’t s-s-stop…I’ll…” he warned and then moaned long and low when his husband’s hand moved to toy with the head of his cock, a finger rubbing against the slit and causing Furihata to buck his hips wildly at the sensation. “Sei…I…” But it was too much for him. With a final shout of his husband’s name, Furihata came in hot spurts all over Akashi’s hand, the carpet, and presumably, the wall.

His legs gave out and he fell forward, sliding down the wall until he was on his knees, his entire form humming with pleasure and satisfaction. He took in a shaky breath and turned to look at Akashi. The other man was looking at the mess on his hand, but before Furihata could apologize for it, he saw the redhead lick it clean, sucking on two of his fingers before hungry, crimson eyes locked onto Furihata's once more.

“Delicious.” He smirked and Furihata felt the beginnings of renewed arousal stirring within him. He swallowed, still trying to regulate his breathing and heart rate.

“Sei…” He glanced down, noting his husband’s erection and the way it strained against the front of his dress pants. His cheeks heated as he thought about returning the favor – in his own way, of course. “Let me?” he asked, looking up at him through his lashes.

“As much as I’d love that, Kouki,” Akashi began. “I am in desperate need of a shower,” he explained. “It was a nineteen hour flight and I came straight home after-”

Furihata brought a hand up and pressed a finger against his husband’s lips. “If you need a shower, then…” He pulled the jersey over his head and tossed it onto his pile of clothes from earlier. “Would you mind if I joined you?”

Akashi’s eyes widened a fraction before he smirked. “Why, I’d be honored.”

 

Later. Much, much later, Furihata hummed happily in their bed, his husband’s head resting on his chest and their fingers laced together. “I think that’s a new record,” he mused and Akashi chuckled.

“I believe you’re right.” He brought their joined hands to his lips and kissed each of Furihata’s knuckles. “We will need to get my old uniform to the cleaners, though-” he interrupted himself with a laugh, “It’ll be interesting explaining away those stains.”

Furihata’s cheeks burned. “Sorry…”

“There’s no need to apologize, Kouki.” Akashi pulled back and cupped his cheek. “That was unbelievably sexy.”

“Really?” he asked, though the other had spent the past few hours proving it to him over and over.

“Absolutely.” Akashi grinned. “And to think, I thought Shintarou was teasing me.”

“Midorima-kun?” Furihata furrowed his brow.

“Ah, he sent me a text message wishing us a happy anniversary,” he explained and then laughed. “Well, the first message was definitely from Kazunari, though from his husband's phone.” He shook his head. “But Shintarou did say I would appreciate my present and-” He gave Furihata’s hand a squeeze, “I most certainly did.”

“So…you knew I was going to be wearing your uniform?” Furihata deflated. He thought he’d surprised him.

“I knew you were planning something and that it involved ‘Rakuzan’s colors’,” he quoted the text he’d received. “But I was still blown away when you stepped out of the closet.” He brushed a few stray bangs from Furihata's eyes. “I just knew you’d look good in white and blue.”

“You said that earlier,” he recollected, pursing his lips. “And something about recruiting me?”

“Oh.” Akashi blushed, his pale cheeks turning the loveliest shade of pink. At least, Furihata thought so. “After that first season and our defeat at the Winter Cup, I started to develop an interest in you, as you know.” He cleared his throat. “And, because of the distance between us, I thought it might be easier to pursue you, that is, court you,” he corrected, “if you lived closer.”

Furihata’s jaw dropped. Half a decade of dating and two years of marriage later and he was just now finding out that his husband very nearly stole him away from his school, home, and team just so he had a better chance of asking him out?

“Of course, Tetsuya said you were too vital to Seirin’s roster, so I had to find other ways to woo you.” He ducked his head. “You aren’t upset with me, are you, Kouki?”

It was then that he realized he hadn’t said anything for a while. “Oh, no.” He shook his head. “Not at all, I’m just…surprised.”

“It’s just as well,” Akashi sighed happily, pulling him into his embrace. “You made a fine captain and I still, by some miracle, managed to win your heart.”

Furihata wanted to argue that the only miracle there was that Akashi had noticed him at all, but he remained silent. He no longer needed to prove to himself that he was worthy of the other man’s love. Emperor or no, they were equals now.

“Win my heart,” Furihata echoed before smiling and nuzzling his husband's chest. “You’re right. You did.”

“Of course, I’m always right.” Akashi kissed the top of his head. “Since I always win.” He smiled against his hair and Furihata snorted into his skin.

“Just because we got your old jersey out, it doesn’t mean you get to start throwing around old catchphrases,” he teased, pulling back just far enough to tilt his head and kiss the other’s chin. “Happy Anniversary, Sei,” he added with a soft smile.

Akashi brushed the backs of his fingers along Furihata's jaw and pressed their lips together. “Happy Anniversary, Kouki.”

**Author's Note:**

> I missed writing these two so much!!
> 
> Let me know what you think and hit me up on tumblr [@jubesy](http://jubesy.tumblr.com) or on my NSFW blog [@xxxjubesy](http://xxxjubesy.tumblr.com)!


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